“Then what. do you want?”
“You possess a secret. You will share it with me tonight.”
Solomon struggled to lift his chin so he could look Mal’akh in the eye. “I don’t. understand.”
“No more lies!” Mal’akh shouted, advancing to within inches of the paralyzed man. “I know what is hidden here in Washington.”
Solomon’s gray eyes were defiant. “I have no idea what you’re talking about!”
Mal’akh took another sip of tea and set the cup on a coaster. “You spoke those same words to me ten years ago, on the night of your mother’s death.”
Solomon’s eyes shot wide open. “You.?”
“She didn’t have to die. If you had given me what I demanded. ”
The older man’s face contorted in a mask of horrified recognition. and disbelief.
“I warned you,” Mal’akh said, “if you pulled the trigger, I would haunt you forever.”
“But you’re —”
Mal’akh lunged, driving the Taser hard into Solomon’s chest again. There was another flash of blue light, and Solomon went completely limp.
Mal’akh put the Taser back in his pocket and calmly finished his tea. When he was done, he dabbed his lips with a monogrammed linen napkin and peered down at his victim. “Shall we go?”
Solomon’s body was motionless, but his eyes were wide and engaged.
Mal’akh got down close and whispered in the man’s ear. “I’m taking you to a place where only truth remains.”
Without another word, Mal’akh wadded up the monogrammed napkin and stuffed it into Solomon’s mouth. Then he hoisted the limp man onto his broad shoulders and headed for the private elevator. On his way out, he picked up Solomon’s iPhone and keys from the hall table.
CHAPTER 30
SB level.
Robert Langdon’s claustrophobia gripped him more tightly with every hastening step of their descent. As they moved deeper into the building’s original foundation, the air became heavy, and the ventilation seemed nonexistent. The walls down here were an uneven blend of stone and yellow brick.
Director Sato typed on her BlackBerry as they walked. Langdon sensed a suspicion in her guarded manner, but the feeling was quickly becoming reciprocal. Sato still hadn’t told him how she knew Langdon was here tonight.
Not exactly a clear picture.
As they pressed on, Langdon tried to shake from his mind the horrible image of Peter’s tattooed hand, transformed into the Hand of the Mysteries. The gruesome picture was accompanied by Peter’s voice:
Despite a career studying mystical symbols and history, Langdon had always struggled intellectually with the idea of the Ancient Mysteries and their potent promise of apotheosis.
Admittedly, the historical record contained indisputable evidence that secret wisdom had been passed down through the ages, apparently having come out of the Mystery Schools in early Egypt. This knowledge moved underground, resurfacing in Renaissance Europe, where, according to most accounts, it was entrusted to an elite group of scientists within the walls of Europe’s premier scientific think tank — the Royal Society of London — enigmatically nicknamed the Invisible College.
This concealed “college” quickly became a brain trust of the world’s most enlightened minds — those of Isaac Newton, Francis Bacon, Robert Boyle, and even Benjamin Franklin. Today, the list of modern “fellows” was no less impressive — Einstein, Hawking, Bohr, and Celsius. These great minds had all made quantum leaps in human understanding, advances that, according to some, were the result of their exposure to ancient wisdom hidden within the Invisible College. Langdon doubted this was true, although certainly there had been an unusual amount of “mystical work” taking place within those walls.